The Ripple Effect Part 6

Shay hesitated. "I've wanted to find her my whole life. No-one knows who our father was. Our mother died having my sister and she was adopted when she was about two weeks old. I was a toddler."

"How sad. So she'd be about my age."

"Yes. About your age."

"Sometimes I wonder if I'm adopted," said Joelle wryly. She picked up her coffee and held it with both hands, gazing thoughtfully at him over the rim.

Shay nearly choked on the mouthful he'd just taken. He managed to swallow and wiped his mouth on the paper serviette Annie had left.

"Why do you wonder that?" he asked.

Joelle put her cup down carefully. "Maybe it's Melanie who's adopted-except being older I know for a fact she isn't." She laughed. "We don't like each other at all. Is that normal, do you think?"

"Probably. Siblings always fight. My brother Ben used to say he wished he were adopted because then he'd know he wasn't really related to Lisa, our big sister. She was a real bossy boots."

"But we're adults now. It's as if we're from different planets." The smile hovered about her mouth but how serious was she? Perhaps on a subconscious level she knew she didn't naturally belong in that family. "I always felt Mum and Dad favoured her. She could do no wrong." Joelle sighed. "They always tell me I'm jealous."

Shay forced a laugh. "Could be something in that. What's the age gap?" Careful now, after the age slip.

"Seven years."

"Old enough to resent a new baby in the house after being the centre of attention for so long," he said. "It's common enough."

"But there was Bridget in between and I looked forward to having another sister," Joelle protested. "Bridget and I get on fine. She lives in England, though. I miss her."

"I don't suppose there's a law that says you have to love your family," he said with a grin. "There've been cases in the US where kids have divorced their parents."

"I don't want to divorce my parents." Joelle laughed. "Just my sister."

"What does she do?"

"Changes her mind a lot. She's tried various courses." She sighed. "Mel's all right. Don't get the wrong idea. I do love her underneath it all. She can't find what she wants to do with her life. I'm lucky. I always knew from the moment I got an after school job at the shop when I was fifteen. I loved working with flowers."

"You've done well," he said. "Managing the place now."

Joelle met his gaze and Shay had to turn his attention to the remains of the coffee in his cup. Her interest was too open. Too innocent.

She glanced at her watch.

"Have to go back?" he asked.

"Five minutes. I am the boss after all."

"Have to set an example though."

"True."

"Thank you for having coffee with me, Joelle."

"I enjoyed it, Shay. Thanks for asking."

"I hope it doesn't cause any trouble,"

"Trouble?"

"With what's his name. Your boyfriend."

"It won't," she said fiercely.

"If it does, tell him I was filling in time before I go back to Sydney and I won't be seeing you again."

"Won't you?"

Shay met her gaze. Disappointment shone in her eyes. Her pretty mouth drooped. She was lovely, his sister. He wanted her to be happy in her love. Not with that Paul character, she deserved to be with a man who appreciated her talent and her creativity, one who wouldn't stifle her.

"I can't, Joelle."

"Why?"

"I've done what I came to do," he said. "Plus I had an unexpected bonus. I met you."

He pushed his chair back and stood up. Joelle did the same. Shay paid Annie at the counter, ignoring her curious eyes, and followed Joelle outside.

At The Garden of Earthly Delights, he held out his hand. "Thanks Joelle. It was nice of you."

"Call in if you come to see your relatives again," she said. She gripped his hand tightly and gazed at him.

He nodded, unable to speak. Suddenly he bent down and brushed his lips over her cheek.

"Goodbye," he murmured and hurried away before he broke a promise he wished he'd never made.

Chapter 4.

When Joelle arrived at her parents' party on Sunday both sides of the street were choked with cars. She squeezed her sunshine yellow Beetle up on to the nature strip outside old Mrs Wilberforce's further along the road and walked back up to the house.

The right heel of her strappy, new, high heeled sandals sank into the heat-softened tarred surface. Mid March and still stiflingly hot. The sun blasted down from a cloudless sky.

Sailing and swimming off Spindrift would have been wonderful today. Joelle had a momentary pang of regret but really, the end result was worth missing a day on the ocean. Paul hadn't called and when he inevitably did she'd be able to explain with great tact exactly how she felt. She'd had time to practise the perfectly worded phrases.

No, she had no regrets about what had happened, only the manner of its happening. Her biggest regret was in regard to Shay. She'd let him get away. One cup of coffee was enough for her to realise this could be the man of her dreams. He'd listened to her, understood her aspirations, opened up about his childhood, admitted loving his family quite unselfconsciously, gazed at her with those gorgeous eyes. He was perfect.

But he completely baffled her. He lived and worked in Sydney. He wasn't coming back and he hadn't suggested any kind of long distance courtship. Not even a *Can I call you?' Her intuition must be way, way out of whack because she would have sworn he found her attractive when he first walked in to the shop.

And the way he'd kissed her so gently, almost a loving gesture.

Perhaps a doctor thought a florist decorative but not quite up to his intellectual level. Was Shay a sn.o.b? She didn't think so but then, she had no idea what he was thinking. He hadn't really told her anything much about himself beyond the adoption thing. She'd done all the talking. Joelle frowned and paused on the bottom step.

He'd asked lots of questions in a chatty way. He knew far more about her than she did about him.

The front door was on the latch. Dad's favourite music filled the house with infectious Latin American rhythm-a samba. He insisted it forced people into the mood for celebrations and after years of hearing the pulsing rhythms and abandoned, joyous singing at every similar gathering, the family's reaction to any Latin American music anywhere was automatic-party time.

Guests spilled from the front room down the hall and on into the kitchen. The back garden would have been taken over as well. A typical Paice affair. Joelle exchanged greetings with two neighbours chatting by the front door, both clutching cold stubbies of beer. She knew fewer and fewer of the guests at her parents' parties as the years progressed and their lives diverged.

"Where's Mum?" she asked.

"Last spotted in there," one of the men said and pointed.

A girl in a waitress's black skirt and white blouse came out of the living room and disappeared down the hall with a tray of empty gla.s.ses. They must have decided to splurge on a caterer this time.

Joelle hovered in the doorway. Her mother was surrounded by people Joelle didn't know, grey-haired women with full gla.s.ses, loud voices and cackling laughs. She glanced up, saw Joelle and rushed towards her with arms wide and a delighted smile. Despite the enthusiastic welcome, her mother remained in elegant control, stylish. Her hair behaved perfectly, her dress never creased. She never, ever lost her chic.

"Darling. I'm so glad you're here."

Joelle was crushed in a most unexpectedly warm embrace. How much bubbly had they drunk already? She returned the hug and kissed her mother's cheek, breathing in her familiar perfume.

"Happy birthday, Mum," she said.

Her mother took the proffered gift and unwrapped it carefully, casting little smiling glances at Joelle and murmuring, "how lovely," and "thank you, darling." Multi coloured silk swirled in her fingers and the hand printed scarf unfolded in a burst of colour.

"It's gorgeous, Joelle. Thank you." Another hug and a kiss. "Come and have a drink, darling. How have you been? We haven't seen you for too long."

"Only a week or so, Mum." She followed her mother to the kitchen. Plastic wrapped plates and bowls of food covered every available flat surface. The waitress was restocking her tray with juice and wine. She smiled at Joelle and offered her a drink.

"Have some champagne instead, darling," said her mother. The waitress picked up her tray and headed out the door to the back terrace.

"Thanks. Is Dad all right?"

"Absolutely. His latest results showed nothing to worry about; he's outside wrestling with the barbecue even though I insisted the caterers could do it. You know what he's like. Your Uncle Phil's helping." A little trilling laugh accompanied the information.

"I haven't seen Phil and Marge for ages."

"Gran's here. She came down with Tom and Kelly from Newcastle and Callum and Susan are here too. Susan's pregnant."

"Really. First Paice grandchild. Takes the pressure of Bridget, Mel and me to produce one."

"I've never pressured you to make me a grandmother," said her mother. "I can wait, don't you worry."

She took an opened bottle of champagne from the fridge, filled a flute to the brim and handed it to Joelle.

"Bridget rang me this morning. She sounds happy but I miss her."

"So do I. But apart from her, the whole family's here," said Joelle. "Cool."

"Well, we thought we should make it a big one. You never know, do you, when things will change?" Her mother's smile wavered slightly.

"No."

The cancer had frightened them all. Terrified them, to be precise. No-one could envisage the family without William at the helm keeping his all-girl crew on course, safe and secure. Joelle still didn't like to think about it, what might have been.

"Is Mel here?"

"Not yet. She's coming though, she promised. I spoke to her yesterday."

More guests arrived and crowded into the kitchen with cries of, "Happy birthday, Natalie."

Joelle escaped with her champagne to the relative peace of the garden. It was too hot to sit in the sun. Most of the guests stood or sat in the shade of the large umbrellas on the terrace. Gran was ensconced on a cane garden chair in the shade of the large broad-leafed tree in the corner. Aunty Marge and Joelle's cousin, Kelly, sat with her. The waitress was offering them drinks.

"h.e.l.lo Joelle, dear," said Gran. "You just get prettier and prettier."

Joelle kissed the soft, powdered cheek, then her Aunty Marge's tanned leathery one. They both had the same beaky nose and angular build as her father. Somehow she'd missed out on that Paice feature. Bridget had it. Mel had it in a modified fashion but Kelly had ducked it as well. She resembled her father, Phil, with plumply rounded arms and soft comfortable body.

"Mum said Susan's pregnant," said Joelle. "How is she?" She glanced around the garden but couldn't see her cousin Callum and his tall, willowy wife.

"She's sick every morning," said Kelly. "Must be horrible. Puts me right off having babies."

"I was sick in the mornings with you," said Aunty Marge, "And the evenings with Callum."

"Does it follow in families, I wonder?" asked Joelle. "That's something to look forward to, Kel. I remember Mum was sick a lot with Melanie. I was only small but I still have memories of her lying down a lot and a blue plastic bucket by the bed."

"Yes, she had a difficult pregnancy," said Gran. "We were all terribly worried. I carried babies very easily. Not a day's illness with Margie or William. So did my mother, she popped all four of us out like piglets. I think it may run in families."

"I wish I was more like your side of the family Gran, but everyone says I look more like Mum than Dad."

"Anyone like another drink? I'll find that girl." Marge leapt to her feet and strode across the lawn to the house despite the fact everyone's gla.s.ses had just recently been replenished. Joelle watched her abrupt departure with surprise.

"Was it something I said?" she asked, raising her eyebrows and laughing.

"Probably a hot flash. She's at that age," said Gran. "Tell me what you've been reading lately, Kelly, I need some new romance authors to look for at the library."

Joelle stopped listening. Champagne on a lazy afternoon in the heat-sleep inducing. She lolled in her chair and closed her eyes. What would Susan's baby look like? Sometimes they skipped a few generations. Mel was the image of Gran in photos of her at the same age, apart from the clothes and hairstyles. The Paice beaky nose was a prominent feature.

Joelle imagined she resembled her mother's family but the few surviving photos she'd studied of Natalie's late parents weren't very helpful. Single child Natalie didn't resemble them much either. The French Connection as her Dad put it had, for all intents and purposes, ceased to exist. Even he hadn't met them. They'd died in a car accident soon after Mum arrived in Australia as an adventurous young French girl on summer holiday.

She'd immediately returned home to Lille, of course, but the lure of clear, sunny skies and a young man name William Paice had proven too strong. Joelle, Bridget and Melanie knew the events by heart. Letters, phone calls, photos, more letters, more phone calls, a long distance proposal and acceptance.

"Une affaire de coeur," said her mother.

"Love at first sight," said her father. "If she hadn't come back I would've gone straight over there and got her."

The girls loved to hear the story, so romantic, pa.s.sionate and wonderful.